


Fête

by breathedout



Series: Passchendaele ficlets [9]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Ambivalent Courtship, Author is glad she is no longer 17 years old, Christmas, Consent Issues, F/F, It's almost Easter so the time is right for a Christmas story, Parlour games, The Male Gaze, gift-giving, teenage heartbreak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 00:20:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18377078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathedout/pseuds/breathedout
Summary: Antigonish, Nova Scotia: December 23, 1878."Do you love your neighbour?" Alice asked, her face grave.





	Fête

**Author's Note:**

> The folks over at [femslashficlets](https://femslashficlets.dreamwidth.org/) on Dreamwidth are hosting a year-long, 15-ficlet challenge where all the prompts are Janelle Monáe lyrics. I'm using them to create a little cycle of exercises using characters from the three established or hinted-at f/f pairings in the original novel I'm working on. So all of these tiny character studies will be related to one another, and all except three of them will be either Louise/Hazel, Rebecca/Katherine, or Emma/Maisie. Anyone interested in getting to know my characters a little bit as I flesh them out is welcome to follow along!
> 
> This story was written for the prompt "Pink like the halls of your heart."

Alice Wilson, amidst giggles from the Jackson girls and snickers from the Evanses, prowled the circle: past Evelyn Bell; Patience Murphy; Dan Merriweather and then Ned; and Charlie; and Katherine; and came to a stop in front of Rebecca herself.

"Do you love your neighbour?" Alice asked, her face grave; and "Yes," Rebecca said, blushing, "except—those who wore gloves outside tonight"; upon which: pandemonium. Rebecca attempted to move one chair to her left but was blocked by William Cook; "Ungentlemanlike!" she called at him, haring off through the frantic crowd to secure a seat next to Patience while Katherine, laughing, some way around the circle, ended up half in Ned's lap. Her cheeks flushed pink, dark curls coming down out of their twist: in a nervous gesture Rebecca's hand went to the little box in the pocket tied at her waist, before she drew it back to clasp the other. Later, she thought. When they were alone. She would watch Katherine pull loose the gold ribbon and lift the velvet lid and and she would say—but the circle, she realised, was empty.

"Aw," William said, after a moment, "you're a cheat, Katherine Llewellyn"; and Katherine laughed again and was getting to her feet, gamely prepared to be _it_ , when Evelyn, her eyes on Ned, said, "I'm getting a bit tired. Who's for more punch and, hm—Alphabet Minute?" 

The circle dispersed amongst cheers and grumbling. Rebecca followed Evelyn through the garlanded and beribboned grange hall, decked with fir and winterberry, keeping at the head of the group so that, spreading her fingers carefully to grip the handles of four cups, she could bring back punch for Katherine and herself; and the boys. 

"That ought to be my job," said Charlie, when he saw her. But she said it was her pleasure and smiled at him as she handed him his cup: clumsily enough done, she thought, but he still subsided. 

"You're my dearest angel," said Katherine, taking hers. "I'm _parched_ "; and she tipped her head back while Rebecca stood there, warmed through, watching her throat move and her delicate hand on the cup as she drank. _I should paint you in pearls_ , she had said to Rebecca, years past; but it was Katherine, Rebecca thought, who would twist them about one finger, smiling, that dimple in her right cheek and her long white tender neck—

"A journey by boat!" someone cried out, behind them. Rebecca startled, flushing, and turned. 

"Gregory told me," said Matthew Evans, raising his punch above his head, "and he's generally correct, that the weather come Saturday will be fine."

"Harbour conditions for a sail? How lovely!" piped up Constance Jackson, to his right, to a chorus of _ooooh_ s at the double play as all eyes shifted to her sister.

"If _only_ one could give credence to such a glorious possibility," Grace said, "but the harbour winds do buffet one so."

"Just a paddle up the river, then, perhaps," said Alice, quick off the mark; and Katherine, to her right, took it up with: "Kind of Gregory, wasn't it, to vouchsafe us his wisdom?" as a small round of cheers went up for the difficult letter. 

"Lovely of him," Rebecca said, inadequately, still looking at Katherine. "And—lucky for us."

"He's—" said Ned, next to her, and then flinched; and _Ohhhh_ shouted the circle, all together. Ned, arms up, was pelted with wadded-up napkins.

"You didn't even _try_!" Patience said, laughing; as "A forfeit!" called William Cook. "What shall be his forfeit?" 

"He," said Evelyn, "shall kiss every lady in the room." 

Rebecca felt her stomach go tight. Ned put a hand to his forehead, faltering under the weight of such a request, as Katherine, a small smile on her lips, watched his display with a raised eyebrow. 

"Must I?" he said. "Will my evening's companion allow it?"

"Oh yes," Katherine said, unperturbed. "You lost the game, so you certainly must."

" _Well_ then," he said, "if you in—"

"And I," she said, raising her voice, "as the designated guardian of your virtue," as the crowd hooted, "am equally duty-bound act as intermediary on your behalf." 

She smiled sweetly. Ned sputtered for a moment, then, realising he'd been had, gave in with good grace, making her an elaborate bow as Dan and William groaned. 

"Evelyn," Katherine said, her smile brightening, and she strode across the circle to put her hands on Evelyn Bell's waist; brush her mouth against Evelyn Bell's mouth. Rebecca watched Evelyn's hand clench and then—soften; and she swallowed. 

"Katherine!" Patience said, her hand waving in in the air. "My turn! Katherine!" 

The whole circle laughed; even Rebecca. Katherine released Evelyn and turned toward Patience; took Patience's hands in her hands and leant in to softly kiss her mouth. Patience mimicked a swoon. 

"She's doing right by you, Ned!" William called, and they all laughed; Rebecca with her arms crossed over her chest, her head aching. 

Around the circle: Katherine kissed Alice, and first one and then the other of the giggling Jackson twins; and then she stopped in front of Rebecca, one hand on Rebecca's face, reaching out to gently tug Rebecca's clasped arms free, and pull them to her waist. She was so—lovely, Rebecca thought, despairing; so—buoyant, so clever; and horrified she felt tears come up, stinging, as Katherine who was so hopelessly warm and _beautiful_ drew Rebecca's face to her face. Katherine's dark eyes; her pink-flushed cheeks; Ned watching and Charlie breathing down both their necks with Katherine's soft warm familiar mouth on hers and her hands pulling Rebecca close, palm to Rebecca's back and their fronts pressed together and between them in Rebecca's pocket the little black box, tied with gold ribbon, which she now realised, thinking forward through the evening ahead of them—the carriage ride; the boys' escort home—that she would, after all, have no opportunity to give to Katherine. Not alone; not tonight. Not as she wanted to. Not—not before Christmas.

**Author's Note:**

> The catchily-named "Change seats!" is a Victorian parlour game sort of like Musical Chairs, except that instead of music the person who is "it" must single out a member of the seated circle and ask them "Do you love your neighbour?" If the person says no, then everyone seated must rush around to find a new seat, with the person in the middle trying to grab one as well. If they say yes, they have to add a proviso "except those who _____," and everyone who fits the bill stands up and changes seats. Whoever is left standing is the new "it."
> 
> In "Alphabet Minute," in case it isn't clear from context, the goal is for a group to have a conversation in which each remark begins with the next letter in the alphabet. The person who breaks the chain loses.


End file.
